


Lord of the World (OLD VERSION)

by DarthImperiusArchive (DarthImperius)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Slytherin, Slytherin Harry Potter, WBWL, Wrong Boy-Who-Lived (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-12-25 16:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18265070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthImperius/pseuds/DarthImperiusArchive
Summary: Born as the youngest son of James and Lily Potter, two heroes of the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Harry's life is as normal as it could be for a young wizard. But as his dreams are plagued by visions of war and insanity, Harry simply seeks to enjoy a new stage of his life as he enters Hogwarts for his first year.





	1. The Boy Who Dreamed

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dominus Mundi: The King of Kings (REWRITE)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18226745) by [DarthImperiusArchive (DarthImperius)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthImperius/pseuds/DarthImperiusArchive). 



> Disclaimer: The Harry Potter franchise belongs to J.K. Rowling.

**_ Author’s Note: _ **

I had an idea.

Instead of writing plot-bunnies as individual stories, why don’t I mash them up together and see what comes out. I was wondering what exactly I could do with the old “Wrong Boy-Who-Lived” and “Slytherin Harry” tropes of Harry Potter fanfiction, the latter being a new one for me. I know both have been milked to the brim, but still… some ideas just won’t go away silently.

So yeah, this one is some sort of “plot-bunny Frankenstein monster”, together with a “little” inspiration from my old King of Kings and Dominus Mundi stories.

* * *

**_Chapter 1 – The Boy Who Dreamed _ **

Iridal.

Great One of Many Colours.

Such was the name of the ancient city founded long ago by its namesake, grandson of Taioron II, supreme ruler of Al-Antidia and all her domains. Above it the skies were clear of clouds, the light of the sun illuminating the land below. The towers of the city cast long shadows on the many buildings below, and some even reached the great sea to the west, shrouding the ports and the entrance to the bridge of Prozac in the umbra.

The greatest of these was the massive spire in the centre of the city, surrounded by many smaller towers of stone and glimmering crystal which captured the light of the stars during both day and night, the light sometimes reflected upon the paved streets, giving a new colouring to the many mosaics which represented religious scenes and landscapes, together with the occasional image of an important figure in the history of Iridal. The citizens would then walk over them, also shadowed by the tall statues of ancestors that gazed down upon them, their stone eyes gazing down in silent judgement. Most of these citizens were either nobles or wealthy individuals, having enough prestige and wealth to afford one of the upper city’s estates, and thus it was common to see small groups of scheming noblemen and ladies in the terraces, clerics performing the occasional processions, or the usual individual on their way to the undercity of Iridal, the true heart of the city.

Above, the alley bridges allowed one to look down into the chasm-neighbourhoods which led into the undercity’s upper section, streams of water flowing downwards into the depths of the Al-Antidian capital, landing in the gardens of the upper district and granting it an exotic ambiance. Here continued the large estates of the upper city, as well as the most exclusive services which catered to the high classes and their excesses. Below were the residences of the rest of the cities inhabitants as well as their ow commercial districts, moderate compared to their upper counterparts, followed by the garden and educational districts.

Such an extensive underground required light for its inhabitants beyond the rays of sunlight that came from the chasms, and it was thus provided by the crystalline formations which grew from the stone roots of the Temple of the Ancestors, the central tower of the city and home of both the imperial family and the high priesthood of the empire. Carved and grown with ancestral magic much like the great temple itself, these mysterious crystals provided the undercity with enough light to resemble a star on its own right, glowing with a golden colour during the day, but dancing in a maelstrom of many colours as the night fell, dimming away into a darkish blue that settled upon the city during the high hours of the night.

All these districts were constructed in the edges of a colossal man-made sinkhole, the cities borders protected with stone, fences, and balconies, allowing anyone to gaze into the abyss below. It was above this hole that hanged the Iridalian roots of light, and at its bottom was one of the holiest sections of the city, second only to the temple district in the upper city.

The City of the Dead.

There were many small hills and plains with countless funerary monuments, many paved streets surrounded by family mausoleums forming small villages. Between these, it was common to find the usual burial vault, sarcophagi, and even ash pits. This land was littered with shrines dedicated to either deities, or ancestors. In the rare occasion, there was no difference between these two. But the greatest of tombs were in the cavern walls that surrounded the necropolis, magnificent structures and palaces carved out to entomb the most influential and richest of Iridal's inhabitants, amongst these the scions of the House of Iridal, current and eighth ruling dynasty of Al-Antidia.

Such was the great capital of the world and the empire that ruled over it. So it was for many days, which were now coming to an end. For while the skies were empty of clouds, they were darkened with smoke, and although the sun shone bright, only a few rays of light sneaked beyond the dark columns of ash. The defences of Iridal had been breached for the first time in many years, and its protectors now attempted to stall any progress by the invaders. Old and grey eyes looked down at the besieged city, their owner breathing in raspy patterns as his emaciated and trembling pale hand grasped a black staff.

The man heard the doors of the throne room opening and hurried steps of someone entering, together with the recognizable sound of the armour of the guard.

“My lord Anipheon we must leave the city,” spoke the guard in panic. “It won’t be long before the tower is breached!”

Anipheon did not turn around, preferring to stare at the ruined city, or at least what he could see of it.

“Leave yourself, if you wish to live. Let Cloteias and his factions reach me. It matters little now.”

“But sir…” pressed the guard in vain.

“The outcome of this war is already decided,” declared Anipheon. “What matters now, is the future.”

A future he wouldn’t be part of, that much was certain. He had caused enough damage to the empire, so it was now time to walk away from it by embracing death. Perhaps these actions were of a coward… true, he was a coward, that much he admitted. He was afraid to face his mistakes, to atone for his actions, or better yet, his lack of action. It was no wonder that the fact that he was placing all his hopes on his son, a child no older than six, did little to ease his torment.

A loud blast shook the tower, the guard and Anipheon losing their footing for a moment. Both new what it likely meant, and what would come next as well.

“Go. Leave this place if you can,” ordered Anipheon. “I command you!”

The guard looked at the Divine Sovereign in conflict. He had to protect the man with his life, and to obey all his orders as well. And now here he was with a direct contradiction in front of him. Yet Anipheon seemed to sure that all was lost to them, and if that was not demoralizing, then nothing else was at this moment. Seeing that there was little he could do to change the mind of his liege, the guard hurried out of the throne room, the doors sealing behind him.

Anipheon sighed and turned to look at the throne. It was such an old relic, a seat of kings and gods, now ready for its final use, much like Anipheon himself was. Odd that he felt such a kinship with a simple piece of furniture. No doubt these were the delusions of his mind, those of a man arriving at the doorsteps of death. He walked towards it, climbing the stone dais where the throne stood. His hand caressed the polished stone before he finally decided to sit upon it, now facing the entrance of the sanctum. Anipheon did nothing but wait for his enemy to finally arrive and bring an end to this chapter of Al-Antidia.

He didn’t have to wait for long. Without most of its defenders and inhabitants, the tower was as good as taken. Perhaps it was his only victory today, that he had succeeded in completely evacuating the city. Alas, he had little time to rejoice or feel satisfaction, as an explosion outside the throne room indicated the arrival of the invaders.

The time had come.

* * *

From the dark depths of sleep awoke Harry Potter, his frantic eyes looking at the room around him, a few rays of light erupting from the badly closed window. Harry could feel his own heart pounding rapidly, and his own breathing was heavy.

 _“Home… home… right. Right,”_ he thought. “ _Just a nightmare.”_

Just another bloody nightmare.

Harry could barely recall any normal dream he had. His dreams all featured at least some degree of fire and war. And occasional bouts of insanity.

Rubbing his eyes, Harry got up from his bed. He didn’t want to risk falling asleep, only for the dreams to return again. From his bedroom to the living room, his parents were nowhere to be seen. Instead, the only person in the living room was Stephen – his near identical twin brother. With the only visible difference being the eye colour, the two boys were virtually identical. While Harry had their mother’s green eyes, Stephen had instead the hazel eyes of their father. Of course, another difference between the two were their respective scars, both curiously in their foreheads. Although the scars of each were similar, Harry’s faintly resembled a lightning bolt.

“Hey,” he mumbled, feeling still a bit half-asleep.

The wireless was turned on, a song of the Weird Sisters being transmitted by the Wizarding Wireless Network. Stephen sat on the sofa, reading one of his Mad Muggle comic books, and humming the song’s melody before he saw his brother appear.

“You missed breakfast,” were Stephen’s first words to him. “And this.”

The older boy proceeded to throw something at his lap. Harry looked down, and upon seeing what it was, his matinal mood was quickly dispelled.

It was his Hogwarts letter.

A grin immediately appeared on his face, and Harry took no time to unseal the letter, his hands trembling in excitement as he read the parchment.

“When are we going?”

“After lunch,” said Stephen. “Dad needs to go the Council of Enchanters first.”

Harry knew how much their father disliked Council business, but as the Corvinite Lord Enchanter, it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

Regardless, the excitement was too much for Harry. He was already imagining them in Diagon Alley, buying their stuff for Hogwarts.

“It says here we can bring a pet owl, cat, or toad,” said Stephen showing his own acceptance letter, before a teasing smile appeared on his face. “I could ask dad to turn you into a kitten. Again. No need to waste time going to the menagerie.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Your bed will be the litter box then.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

* * *

Inside the kitchen, James and Lily sat down in front of a small table, the former reading the Daily Prophet, while the latter listened with amusement to the argument between the twins.

“So… what do you think?”

James looked up from the newspaper.

“What do I think?”

“About where they’ll end up. At Hogwarts.”

James hummed in thought.

“I would say Gryffindor for Stephen. And Harry…”

Lily spoke the thought in the minds of both.

“Slytherin.”

James frowned, despite the truth of his wife’s statement. Slytherin was too dangerous of a choice. The house was filled to the brim with blood supremacists and the offspring of Voldemort supporters and sympathizers. The danger of having either of his sons there did not escape him. In any other situation, he wouldn’t have minded it, as his own mother Euphemia had been a Slytherin, but the current circumstances made it a dangerous house to be sorted into. Then again, Peter Pettigrew had been a Gryffindor, and he became a Death Eater.

House affiliation wasn’t everything in the Wizarding World.

“It’s too dangerous,” muttered James.

“We’ll be there James. If that’s the house he gets into, then we’ll be there to protect him,” said Lily. “He’ll be fine.”

“You’re too optimistic Lily.”

“One of us has to be,” she replied. “Although, can you imagine what will happen if one gets into Gryffindor and the other into Slytherin?”

The possible scenario caused a groan from James. “A living nightmare, that’s what. I don’t want those two at each other’s throats.”

Lily chuckled. “A bit late for that, I’m afraid.”

* * *

Finding an empty compartment had been Harry and Stephen’s first task. Thankfully, as they had arrived early to King’s Cross, there were quite a few empty ones left. With their trunks stored, the two Potters sat down, Stephen got out his deck of self-shuffling cards, and the twins immersed themselves in a game of Go Fish. Eventually, the two began to feel the express moving, and looked outside to see the train leaving the station, the sound of the other students outside, all scrambling to enter the compartments was not unhear by the two, and when the door of theirs was opened, the two looked at the newcomer.

“Finally, I found you!”

Before them stood Theodore Nott, old playmate and friend of both twins.

“Have you come to try and corrupt us again, Nott?” asked Stephen, mockingly recalling Theodore’s so-called goal.

“Yep,” said the other boy with uncharacteristic cheerfulness. Maybe it was the fact they would be going to Hogwarts.

“Doing a poor job at it,” remarked Harry. “Stephen’s the one corrupting you.”

The elder twin looked scandalized. “No I’m not!”

Stephen still got up from his spot, and helped Theodore place his trunk away. He sat back down, with Theodore occupying the spot right next to him.

“Up for a game?” asked Stephen.

“Sure!”

Stephen snapped his fingers, the signal activating the self-shuffling magic of the card deck. The three were given five cards each, and positioned themselves to better hide their cards, Harry and Stephen taking in consideration the window behind them.

“Any fives Harry?” began Stephen.

“Nope. Go fish.”

Lightly scowling, Stephen took a card from the deck, unfortunately an ace.

“Any kings, Theo?”

Looking at his cards, it was Theodore’s turn to scowl as he gave two kings to Harry.

“Your parents will be teaching at Hogwarts, right?” he asked.

The two nodded. “Yeah. Mum’s teaching History of Magic, and dad will be handling Transfiguration for the first, second, third, and fourth years,” answered Harry.

“I heard mum say it was because McGonagall needed more time to do her deputy headmistress tasks.”

“I feel sorry for you.”

Both looked confused at the statement, but realization quickly settled on both twins, with Harry being the one to express what both now felt.

“Bugger.”

“Yep. I hope you like to have your leashes tightened. Any fools Steph?”

“Nope. Go fish.”

Theodore took a card from the deck. “Well, look at this. A fool. Any queens?”

Stephen smirked. “Nope. Go fish again.”

“Bollocks.”

* * *

The first game ended with Harry victorious, his first book being made up of kings. The three continued their game, chatting about several things, although Quidditch came to dominate as the main topic. Eventually, the trio was visited by not only a girl searching for a toad, but also by a boy they knew to be Draco Malfoy, accompanied by two other first years. The brewing confrontation there was put to a stop by an older student that was passing by, making Malfoy and his two companions leave the compartment, much to the relief of the three.

There was some bad blood between the Nott and the Malfoy families, that much was known to the two twins. They didn’t really know the actual reason, and although they were curious about it, their parents refused to explain, and Theodore himself claimed he didn’t know exactly why.

“So… which house do you think you’ll get sorted into?” asked Nott, trying to ease the tension.

Harry looked at his brother. “Steph?”

“Gryffindor, of course,” declared the Boy-Who-Lived. “Where else? What about you Theo?”

“I think we all know where I’m going.”

Slytherin, of course.

“Harry?

The youngest of the three looked out of the window. Where exactly would he end up?

Thanks to a blunder from their father, he and Stephen knew how the sorting worked. He had no real preference for any of the houses, but then again, he didn’t know what exactly the hat would pry from his head.

Now that he thought about it, having something reading his mind wasn’t exactly appealing.

“Not sure. To be honest.”

“I can see you in Slytherin,” commented Theodore as he took a bite from a Chocolate Frog that had nearly escaped him. “In Gryffindor too… I think.”

“Wherever you end, you won’t be getting rid of me,” declared Stephen with a grin. “Merlin knows you wouldn’t last long.”

“I’m fine with whatever house you get placed into,” said Harry. “I’m just worried you’ll get… what’s the word dad said… ‘influenced’ because I’m friends with people like Theo.”

“But I’m friends with Theo too,” said Stephen, pointedly looking at Theodore.

“You’re the Boy-Who-Lived. You’d get a free pass. I’m the twin no one knows about. I can only be jealous of you, and hate you because of your fame,” declaimed Harry. “It will be those howlers all over again for me.”

Theodore looked curious. “Howlers?”

Harry just looked at the window, unable to respond. Stephen, on the other hand, looked angry.

“A bunch of people sent angry howlers at Harry because of some article the Prophet published, saying he was jealous of me and my fame,” he explained. “We were what… six?”

Theodore looked horrified. He had never heard this story before, and he could understand why exactly the two Potters before him would want this under wraps. But to send howlers at a kid… and the Daily Prophet article they spoke of… were people mental?

Looking at the landscape outside, Harry gave an empty smile. “It was… unpleasant.”

Of all the memories he could have of his early childhood, this would be one he would gladly forget.

“Bugger them.”

Theodore and Harry looked at Stephen open mouthed.

“Stephen!”

“No, really,” said Stephen, caring little about his use of words. “You’re my brother. I don’t care what anyone else thinks of you. If they don’t like you, then I don’t like them either.”

Harry smiled, this time a true one.

“Thanks.”

* * *

The boat ride was astonishing, seeing the castle looming above the lake being a nearly surreal experience. None of the twins had been in such a place before, and the wonder of Hogwarts did not escape them. Reading and hearing about ghosts in stories was not the same thing as actually seeing them in the… well, whatever ghosts were made of. Ectoplasm, maybe?

They had been greeted at the Entrance Hall by Professor McGonagall, a witch that had been mentioned several times in the Potter household. To the twins, she was exactly as their parents had described her.

Stephen, who had been until then thankful no one had yet made mention of him being the Boy-Who-Lived, cursed his fate when both Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley decided to make a scene in front of the other first years about that unfortunate fact. Pointedly, both Harry and Theodore had advised him to ignore the two, which was exactly what he had been doing.

The deputy headmistress soon returned back to them and guided the lot into the Great Hall, where the older students sat and waited eagerly for both the sorting, and the oncoming feast. The first thing the twins did when they entered the Great Hall was to look at the staff table, finding there their parents sitting next to each other.

Before the staff table was a wooden stool, atop it a rather old and shabby looking hat.

“That’s the Sorting Hat?” whispered Theodore as the sorting hat was revealed. “Do… do they clean that thing?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” replied Stephen.

“Must be filled with lice.”

“Ew!” said Harry under his breath, an expression of disgust on his face. “Ancestors, Theodore! Don’t say that.”

“Yeah Nott, don’t ruin this for the rest of us,” hissed a somewhat pudgy girl near them.

Turns out Theodore’s comment had been overheard by most of the first years, who now either glared at Theodore, or stared in disgust at the sorting hat.

The hat’s song did restore a bit of cheer to them, but threat of lice still remained. Harry knew he would be washing his head tonight, and so did Stephen.

The sorting ceremony began with Hannah Abbot being called, the girl being sorted into Hufflepuff, sharing the selection with Susan Bones, who went right after. Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst became the first Ravenclaws, with Lavender Brown becoming the first Gryffindor.

Millicent Bulstrode, the girl who had expressed her ‘displeasure’ at Theodore’s comment, became the first of the first years to be sorted into Slytherin. As Harry watched her walk to the Slytherin table, he could not help but overhear a comment made to his brother by Ron Weasley, who seemed to be trying to insert himself in Stephen’s circle of friends.

“There hasn’t been a wizard or witch in Slytherin who didn’t went bad.”

Needless to say, that wasn’t a smart move, as both Harry and Stephen glared at the red-head.

“Our grandmother was in Slytherin, Weasley,” hissed Harry, low enough that those close to him could hear. “Are you trying to imply something?”

The venom in Harry’s voice made Ron Weasley take a step back and gulp audibly. Insulting Euphemia Potter, a known Slytherin who had died valiantly fighting alongside her husband Fleamont during a Death Eater attack, managing to finish off quite a few before perishing, was not a good idea.

The sorting continued without any trouble, with Theodore eventually being called, and unsurprisingly sorted into Slytherin. Yet Harry’s own nervousness began to increase as the name list became smaller.

“Corvinus-Potter, Harry.”

And there it was. Harry took a deep breath and stepped forward to sit in the stool, trying to ignore the whispers that broke out in the hall.

_“Potter?”_

_“Corvinus?”_

_“There’s another Potter?”_

_“He’s got to be a cousin, right?”_

Placing the hat on his head and sitting down, he waited for whatever would come next.

“Well, well,” spoke a small voice in his ear _._ “What an intriguing mind you have, Harry Potter.”

Harry blinked. This was really weird...

“Plenty of courage, even if you don’t show it. Talent too. And the desire to prove yourself…”

By now Harry was just wishing the hat would hurry. He could almost feel the hundreds of eyes that were staring at him behind the hat.

“Mhm… yes. There’s no doubt about it. Better be… SLYTHERIN!”

There was a wave of shock as the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived was sorted into Slytherin. As Harry gave the hat back to a surprised McGonagall and went to sit with his new housemates, the shock quickly passed, and a polite although restrained wave of applause came from the Slytherin table, eventually extending to the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, with the Gryffindors remaining silent and quiet. The applause given by his parents, and the thumbs up and grin from his brother were enough to make up for it.

“Corvinus-Potter, Stephen.”

McGonagall had recovered her voice, it seemed, and Harry watched as his twin walked to the stool and sat down, whispers being heard once again through the Great Hall. When they died down, Stephen still had the hat on his head, and Harry began to wonder where exactly he would be sorted into, since it was taking this long. Wasn’t Gryffindor the obvious choice?

And then the hat finally spoke.

“SLYTHERIN!”

The Great Hall remained silent, Stephen smirked, and Harry blinked.

_“Wait… what?”_


	2. Slytherin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Sorting Ceremony over, the Potter twins enter the infamous Slytherin House, their first day at Hogwarts starting with not just Defence Against the Dark Arts, but also History of Magic, taught by their mother.

**_ Chapter 2 – Slytherin _ **

Virtually everyone in the Great Hall stared in shock at the elder of the Potter twins.

Excited whispers began to emerge from the Slytherin table, which quickly turned into cheering. The sudden and noticeable exchange of money across the Great Hall, indicated several bets had been made.

“Potter is ours!” had shouted someone in the crowd.

Stephen removed the hat and walked down to sit at the table, taking the empty space right in front of his brother and next to Theodore.

Harry stared dumbfounded at his brother, receiving a devious smile in response.

“Yes Harry?”

Harry was confused. Very confused. He was dead certain his twin would be sorted into Gryffindor, and now here he was, sitting right before him at the Slytherin table.

Stephen Potter – the Boy-Who-Lived – was a Slytherin.

Part of Harry was excited at having his brother in the same house as him, but a Slytherin Boy-Who-Lived just didn’t make sense.

Or did it?

Although the cheering had died down, Harry noticed there were quite a few older years looking down at his twin, with some also looking at him, which made him rather nervous. He really disliked this sort of attention.

Before he had even noticed it, the sorting had ended, and Dumbledore had risen from his seat at the High Table, likely to speak.

“Welcome, welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!” spoke the headmaster. “Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”

There was a mass of claps from the tables, although the Slytherins were more reserved in their applause.

Harry shook his head, jumping slightly as dishes filled with food suddenly appeared on the table. “He’s mad.”

“You figured that out now, Potter?” sneered Malfoy, who sat near him.

Harry simply shrugged.

“You…” said Theodore as nudged Stephen. “…have a lot of explaining to do.”

The Potter heir simply grinned as he filled his plate.

Yet Harry knew he was missing something. Maybe he would find out what it was another day.

And then he would know. And see.

* * *

Slytherin.

Of all the things he could have heard during the sorting of both Potter twins, it was the most unexpected. Trully, considering their parentage and respective allegiance, it was just a general guess they would end up in Gryffindor. Or at least in Hufflepuff. Through legitimacy he had reached out to see their superficial thoughts and emotions, and what he found had been rather curious.

From Harry Potter, it had been a neutral acceptance, the boy not caring that he had ended up in Slytherin. There was also expectancy, as if the outcome of his sorting had been something he expected. Yet from Stephen Potter… he had sensed satisfaction. The boy not only had been expecting it but was also happy to have been sorted into Slytherin.

Despite their apparent enmity, Voldemort could not help but approve. That the Boy-Who-Lived – the poster child of Dumbledore and his factions – had defied expectations and was sorted into the most infamous of the four houses of Hogwarts was nothing short of extraordinary. It was the same defiance he had shown many years before, back when the simply and seemingly muggle-born Tom Riddle had been sorted into Slytherin, and against all expectations, rose to greatness both inside and outside the house.

On the matter of Slytherin, there was also something curious he had noticed. There had been a rather curious distribution of names he was familiar with from his followers, both the fodder and his inner circle, amongst the four houses of Hogwarts. Odd, how they were not all monopolized by the house of Salazar Slytherin. Mayhap it had been because of the association House Slytherin now had with the Death Eaters, and how the scions of those families were trying distancing themselves from it, regardless of their true ideologies.

It was a smart move, although pitiful.

His mission had been an utter failure, and if he had no horcruxes, then the attack on the Potters would have been his utter end. Even so, his survival had not been pleasant at all, and the current situation was unacceptable. Lord Voldemort had known the risks, and he had paid the price for his arrogance, that much he could admit. There would need to be a few… alterations to his plans, but it was of no concern. Unlike what that fool Dumbledore thought, he could adapt well to the situations. If he got the Stone, then he would get a new body and be restored to power. If not, then Quirrell would have to be hollowed out. It was a last resort, and a dangerous one too, but it mattered little. With luck, this endeavour would also reveal which one of the Potter children was the ‘one’. The two were special, no doubt about it, but one more than the other. His presence had already disrupted a great number of carefully laid out plans and would continue to do so until things were set back to the way they should have been since the start.

There was too much at stake, and no room for failure.

Not again.

* * *

The feast was over, and the plates were now completely empty. Once more the students looked at Dumbledore as he rose from the High Table.

“Now that we are all fed and watered, I would have a few start-of-term words to give you. First years should note that the forest on the school’s grounds is forbidden to all students. Our older students would so well to remember that as well.”

From the point of view of those in Slytherin, Dumbledore seemed have briefly glanced at the Gryffindor table.

“Also, Mr Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors,” he continued. “Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for the team of their house should speak with Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.”

Very few laughed at that statement. There were quite a few with disturbed expressions on the Slytherin table, Harry and Stephen amongst them.

“Definitely mad,” muttered Stephen.

What followed was the most horrendous and disharmonious choir as Dumbledore had almost every single student singing the school song. There wasn’t great enthusiasm within Slytherin, but they still followed the lyrics shown by the enchanted ribbon Dumbledore had summoned.

When it was over, there was applause from all tables except Slytherin.

“Alright now, first years with me!” shouted a boy with black hair that had been sitting near them.

The first years quickly gathered and followed the teen as he led them out of the Great Hall and into the Entrance Hall, leading them down into the lower levels of the Grand Staircase. As they reached the bottom level, Damian Withers led then into a dark and dusty corridor.

“Now, this isn’t the entrance to the common room, but a shortcut to the dungeons, where our common room is,” he said as the group approached a large portrait of a woman. “Don’t reveal the password to any other house, and make sure you are alone, or only with other Slytherins when you use this passage.”

Harry almost winced when he saw who exactly was represented on the portrait. Elizabeth Potter, or rather Elizabeth Burke, as she was better known as, was one of those ancestors of his he would rather forget their existence. A blood-supremacist, her unremovable portrait in the old Corvinus Manor was rather talkative regarding that subject, much to the irritation of his family.

“Password?” asked Burke’s portrait.

“Slytherins are Supreme,” spoke Withers.

The portrait moved aside as if it was a door revealing a hole within. There was a small commotion as the first years struggled to enter the portrait hole, all wishing to go first, but eventually they all got through, entering a tunnel illuminated by torches inside small niches on the walls.

“This is awesome!” whispered Theodore over a grin.

Harry shared the grin, while Stephen rolled his eyes, yet not managing to hide the hint of a smile on his face. The group continued to follow the prefect as they left the tunnel and entered the dungeons of Hogwarts, eventually reaching a small and oddly empty chamber.

“Alright firsties. Time for introductions,” said the older boy. “My name is Damian Withers, fifth year, and I’m one of the prefects of Slytherin. If you are wondering why I brought you to this empty room, here’s the reason.”

Withers turned to one of the walls and spoke a single word.

“Ascendance.”

The stone wall shifted to show a passageway, much like the brick wall that allowed entrance into Diagon Alley.

“This is the entrance to our common room,” he declared. “In you go.”

He motioned them to enter, the group eagerly moving into the passageway, with Withers behind them.

“Now, first things first. Welcome to Slytherin. In case you haven’t yet noticed, the emblem of our house is the serpent, and our colours are green and silver,” said Withers as he motioned to the banners and reliefs on the walls of the common room. “Now, let’s start with a little… educational moment. I’m sure you’ve all heard about Slytherin, truths and lies. Mostly lies, unfortunately. You may have heard that we’re all into the Dark Arts and will only talk to you if your great-grandfather was a famous wizard. Well… you don’t want to believe most of the rubbish the other houses say about us. Not denying we’ve produced our own fair share of dark wizards, but so have the other houses. They just don’t like to talk about it. In the same way they don’t like to talk about the fact that Merlin himself was a Slytherin.”

That had gotten a few wide eyes from the first years, Harry and Stephen included. Damian seemed to have been expecting this reaction and smirked in response.

“Oh yes, Merlin was one of us. The most famous and powerful wizard in history came from this very house. If any Gryffindor comes and claims otherwise, have them check the House Records. That should send them running with their tails between their legs,” continued the prefect, yet his expression became a bit more serious. “However, keep in mind that as you were sorted into Slytherin, you will be seen with distrust by the other houses. Even by some professors. We also get respect from our fellow students. Yes, some of that respect might be tinged with fear, so don’t be surprised if you are immediately branded as dark wizards because of our reputation. But you know, it can be fun having a reputation for walking on the wild side. Give away a few hints that you have a collection of curses up your sleeve and see if anyone tries to nick your quill.”

Harry’s eyes twitched, as if uncertain they should narrow. Now there was an idea he wouldn’t pass up. Glancing at Stephen, he could almost hear the cogs rotating inside his brother’s head.

But Stephen knew. He was very aware of what would happen now that he was in Slytherin. No doubt they would be looking at him as the second coming of Voldemort, or perhaps worse. He had to be prepared for whatever would come next. Maybe Gran Euphemia’s portrait would share whatever unsavoury knowledge had been imprinted on it. She had been, after all, a Nott.

“Remember, just because we are in Slytherin doesn’t mean we are, as some will put it, evil. We’re just like our emblem – sleek, powerful, and frequently misunderstood,” declared Withers. “We also look after our own. We are brothers and sisters now, all snakes.”

“Onto other matters. I doubt first years like you will even be doing this kind of stuff, but if in the future you have to perform… unsavoury experiments, then do it _inside_ the common room. Specifically, in your bedrooms,” warned Withers. “And make sure you have an older student with you if the experiment is dangerous enough. Also, the password to the common room changes every fortnight, so keep an eye on the noticeboard. Never bring anyone from another house into our common room, or tell the password. Understood?”

The first years nodded. And as soon as Withers had finished telling them the location of the dormitories, the first years were free to go, and took no time in separating themselves into small groups. Out of nowhere, both Harry and Stephen felt a great weight suddenly on their backs as Theodore Nott had basically jumped and landed with each arm in the shoulders of the twins.

“This is awesome!”

“It’s the second time you’ve said that Theo,” pointed out Stephen.

“I know. But we’re together! All three!” said Theodore, his excitement unable to be contained. “Come on! We need to claim the best room before Malfoy does!”

House unity aside, neither Potter would lose the opportunity to have one up against Malfoy. Following the directions given by Withers, the trio found the boy’s dormitories, and after a quick examination of the available rooms, they decided on the left side bedroom, as it was the only one of the three with windows to the lake. Inside were three four-posters with green silk hangings, the bedspreads embroidered with silver thread. The walls were decorated with tapestries of ancient Slytherins and their adventures, which, surprisingly enough, were not animated through enchantments. Maybe whoever put them there thought having the images animated would be a great enough distraction for the sleepy Slytherins in the room.

It was more peaceful than what they had imagined.

Already making the room theirs, each of the trio claimed one of the beds, placing their trunks right in front of their respective bed. The three had taken out their respective Folio Magi and began to compare Wizard Cards.  Someone began to knock on the door, and the three looked to see Damian Withers standing there.

“Potters, I need a word with you two,” called Withers.

The twins looked at each other and reluctantly decided to follow the prefect. He led them back into the common room’s main area, and into the sofas, where two older year Slytherins had been apparently waiting – a boy and a girl.

“Sit down,” ordered Withers, motioning towards an empty couch.

Still reluctant and feeling a bit threatened, Stephen was the first to sit down, Harry following shortly after.

“Look how nervous they are. Adorable,” said the girl.

That made both twins blush in embarrassment, despite the uncertainty of the situation.

“Don’t worry,” spoke the boy. “We don’t bite… much.”

Withers rolled his eyes.

“Ignore them,” he said. “We’re not going to hurt you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Both twins relaxed a bit.

“Let’s just make a small introduction,” continued Withers. “As I said before, I’m Damian Withers, fifth-year prefect.”

“Gemma Farley, fifth year prefect as well,” said the girl.

“Felix Toke, sixth year prefect,” spoke the boy.

Shortly glancing at his fellow prefects, Damian looked back at the twins. “Now, I hope you still remember what I said during my ‘welcome speech’. Do you?”

The two nodded.

“Good. What I said before about our house’s reputation is true, and it might cause trouble for you later on,” said Withers. “Many were pegging the Boy-Who-Lived as a Gryffindor, and instead they got a Slytherin. There are some who might take that as… well, an insult.”

“In other words, don’t be surprised if you get a few jinxes thrown your way in the corridors Potter,” said Toke. “You too junior. If they can’t get your brother directly, then they’ll go after you instead.”

Harry frowned.

“How… nice,” he spoke for the first time.

He got what seemed to be a mixture of a sneer and snort in response.

“That’s how they are Potter. Nice to all who fit the story they want.”

“We are Slytherins, and we look after our own,” affirmed Farley. “Try not to be alone in the corridors, especially in places where Gryffindors usually lurk. I don’t know how your parents feel about your sorting, but if you remain on good terms, then go to them for help as well if something happens. Use all and any advantages you have and may find.”

“And come to us as well. An attack on you by the other houses is an attack on Slytherin as well,” said Withers. “Got it?”

The twins nodded.

“Then go on and… well, do whatever you were doing.”

* * *

As soon as they were out of the dungeons, whispers followed the twins almost everywhere they went. As predicted by the Slytherins, most were downright nasty, and the majority came from Gryffindor.

The first class they had was Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Quirrell, which some seemed to be looking forward. It turned out the class was a joke, and with the addition of the intense smell of garlic inside the classroom, few left looking forward to further classes.

Alas, the year had barely begun.

But the second class of the day was one Stephen and Harry had been both dreading and looking forward to – History of Magic.

“My name is Lily Corvinus-Potter, and I’ll be your Professor of History of Magic for the foreseeable future,” she said with a smile. “The recorded history of our world begins during what we call the First Era, or the Ancient World. Here, we have three historical periods we will be studying – the Medocene, the Tesklan, and the Amilanian ages.”

By now, she had begun to write down the names in the blackboard, and the students were already taking notes.

“Due to the lack of information we have on both the Medocene and Tesklan ages, we will be studying those during the first term, and hopefully end them shortly after the Christmas holidays. We will then study the Amilanian age and will end the year with at least the Fourth War of Righteousness done.”

Virtually everyone was taking notes by now.

“Okay… the three ages I mentioned… does anyone know why they are named as such?”

Of all the students, it surprised Lily that only her sons had raised their hands.

“Stephen?”

“The first comes from Medocenus of Prosa, the first known king, and the second from a queen called Teskla Nor,” answered Stephen, continuing as Lily nodded. “I… don’t know the third.”

Seeing as no other students, Lily turned to Harry, wanting to know if he remembered her mini-lessons.

“Do you know Harry?”

Harry nodded. “Amilanius. The founder of the Al-Antidian Empire.”

Lily smiled. “Correct. Ten points to Slytherin.”

A light smirk appeared on both Stephen and Harry’s faces, and a wave of satisfaction washed over the Slytherins at having points already in the first day of school.

“Before we begin our study of the Medocene period, I believe it is best if I get some First-Era related concepts and vocabulary across to you,” said Lily as she moved back to the blackboard once more. “We’ll start with the most basic of them, the Egopolis…”

The following twenty minutes were spent with Lily giving them a basic and essential glossary on matters related to Al-Antidia. As a class with only theory and no practice, Lily wasted no time in having them take notes.

“… and the International Confederation goes to great lengths to make sure muggles remain unaware of the Ancient World,” she finished.

“Why?” asked Susan Bones.

“Because if muggles discovered Al-Antidian ruins, then they would also discover evidence of magic, breaking the Statute of Secrecy. You see Miss Bones, it’s one of the most curious things we have found. In all Al-Antidian records that have been recovered and translated, there are no mentions of non-magical individuals.” answered Lily. “Unlike today, magic was a public thing back then. It was a fundamental pillar of society and government. This led to a general consensus amongst scholars that there was no such thing as a muggle back then. That magic was something everyone had.”

This information was new and surprising to most students, especially those in Slytherin.

“There are some countries where this position is widely accepted. As such, this causes differences in concepts of both blood purity and wizard supremacy. For example, in Greece and Bulgaria, their equivalent of blood-purity comes from the claim of old wizard lineages having an unbroken connection to Al-Antidians who escaped whatever ripped magic away from most humans.”

Bulstrode raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss…?”

“Millicent Bulstrode,” she said. “What about muggle-borns and squibs?”

“The general belief is that muggle-borns are resurgences of the magical spark that was lost after the fall of Al-Antidia. Hence why blood supremacists are less hostile in those countries,” she answered. “As for squibs, we don’t have a clear answer yet. There are many theories on the table right now.”

She had to repress a frown. Although her studies in the Cypriot Lyceum had been enlightening, having to recall the “dissection” of a Nucleus was something that still made her stomach turn. The path to knowledge on the nature of magic and the proprium was stained with things that would be left unspoken.

Morality was something lacking in the research of the higher mysteries of the universe.

* * *

**_The Al-Antidian Handbook: _ **

**Medocenus of Prosa** ( _Prosan Al-Antidian language_ : **Maedoceno** ) – Ancient monarch of the early Medocene Period. Was the ruler and alleged founder of the city-state of Prosa.

 **Teskla Nor** – Ancient queen in what is today called the Caucasus. Founded the Tesklan Hegemony, and shares her name with the egopolis Teskla Nor, which served as the hegemony’s capital.

 **Amilanius** ( _Idloatean Al-Antidian language_ : **Amllanaios** ) – Member of the Laqtinuj dynasty and bastard son of Nergal IV of Idloatai. Took control of the Idloatean kingdom after the First War of Ascendency and used the chaos of the Second War to forge the world-spanning Al-Antidian Empire. Was succeeded by his son Nergal.


	3. A Prismatic Possibility

_**Chapter 3 – A Prismatic Possibility** _

"Potions with the Gryffindors… who makes these schedules?"

Stephen's sentiment was shared by the other Slytherins. The rivalry with Gryffindor was legendary and mixing it with a class as volatile as Potions wasn't a good idea. There was a lot of incentive for unsavoury actions.

Sabotage, for instance.

"Either Dumbledore or the McGonagall," suggested Tracey Davis. "Both Gryffindors."

And despite their differences, the first year Slytherins could not help but walk to the dungeons in a single group.

"Thank Merlin Professor Snape favours us," said Daphne Greengrass. "At least that's what I heard Withers say."

"Merlin's dead Greengrass. I don't think he did much," remarked Harry. "Or can do."

That earned him a glare. "Shut it Potter."

Harry laughed quietly, a near inaudible exhalation of amusement, just before murmuring something that sounded suspiciously like " _Merlinist_ ".

Surprisingly enough, it was Parkinson who defused the possible rising conflict with a single question. "Say, Potters, think you can make your parents give you extra points?"

"Eh, I wouldn't count on it," cautioned Harry. "Mum and dad were Gryffindors."

"Didn't stop your mother from giving us points in History."

"True," conceded Harry. Yet he doubted either of them would favour Slytherin just because their two children were in that specific house. This line of thought, however, made Harry wonder who would his parents cheer for if either him or Stephen entered the Quidditch team.

Sadly, such a question would not be answered this year.

* * *

The first class of potions had been rather mild. Despite a few random questions being sent their way, which luckily both Harry and Stephen managed to answer thanks to their mother's tutoring in potion brewing prior to their arrival at Hogwarts, Snape paid them little attention. The Gryffindors, on the other hand, weren't as lucky.

Taking advantage of the time they still had before the first Transfiguration class, Stephen and Theodore had decided that they would explore the castle. In any other day, Harry would be all for going with them, but since he was feeling a bit lethargic, he opted for staying inside the Common Room.

In general, the exploration had been mostly peaceful, with only a few glances and whispers thrown their way. Much to the disappointment of Stephen, they didn't find any of the secret passages his father had mentioned during his tales, so they opted for the simply act of sightseeing. That is, until they returned to the Second-Floor corridor, where a small group of Gryffindors had been congregating. Their arrival had been noticed, and the two found their passage blocked by the Gryffindors, whose expressions were anything but friendly.

"Look who we have here," sneered one of the Gryffindors. "A mini-Death Eater and the _Traitor_."

The Traitor.

" _Nice,"_ thought Stephen bitterly. _"So that's what they're calling me."_

Already were both counting the number of spells they could use if this encounter escalated into violent territory. Which, considering the stereotypical temperament of Gryffindors, was very likely to happen. Stephen didn't really register the exchange of words and threats, as all he cared about was leaving the corridor. All it took was a single threat to make him retort back with a sentence that ignited a short-lived confrontation.

"I'd like to see you try."

After those words had been said, it became unclear who exactly had cast the first spell, but soon spells were sent from both sides, one of them a dense cloud of smoke that made the two Slytherins and their aggressors unable to see anything. Theodore took the opportunity to grapple Stephen and drag him into a nearby hallway, shouts and screams of anger behind them.

"What did you use?" asked Stephen as he ran.

"Verdimillious. You?"

"Hair Loss Curse. What about the smoke?"

"Hah. That was mine too."

The two had reached the Grand Staircase, descending it until they finally entered the corridor with Burke's portrait. Once in the dungeons, Stephen and Theodore wasted no time in entering the Common Room. Few Slytherins were inside, mostly upper years. To their surprise, Harry was by one of the windows, talking with whom they recognized as Pansy Parkinson.

As they got closer, the two notice them, with Parkinson looking at them with a neutral expression. "Nott. Potter."

"Parkinson," replied Stephen. "What are you two doing?"

"Talking about Potions stuff," said Harry, who then took a good look at his twin and noticed the state of his robes. "What happened to you?"

Stephen looked down and saw that his black robes had been slashed open, likely the result of some curse one of the Gryffindors had thrown his way.

"Gryffindors," answered Theodore bitterly.

"Who cast Diffindo at you?" asked Parkinson, looking at Stephen's robes with a bewildered expression.

"Diffindo?" spoke Theodore, a bit sceptical of Parkinson's deduction. Even he could not remember what curses had been thrown their way by the Gryffindors, so how could Parkinson – who had not even been there – know what spell had been cast at Stephen?

She looked at them, unamused. "I can recognize a Severing Charm when I see one Nott. You were lucky whoever cast that wasn't good enough with the spell, Potter. Otherwise you would be either dead or bleeding out."

Stephen gulped, suddenly feeling a bit more aware of his own mortality. "Thanks Parkinson. Good to know."

"My pleasure," replied the girl, a nasty smile on her face. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have things to do."

As Parkinson left, the adrenaline of the fight and escape was now fading away from the two Slytherins. If anyone was to look at Theodore, they would undoubtably and correctly guess he was livid.

"We're not letting them get away with this, are we?"

"No. No we're not," affirmed Stephen, determination showing in his voice and face. "Know any good spells?"

"Well, I know Verdimillious, Flipendo, and Fumos," said Theodore. "And also Locomotor Mortis. That should be useful."

"That one's good for escaping," mused Stephen. "What about you Harry?"

The two looked at Harry.

"I also know Flipendo and Verdimillious. And the one that sticks your shoes to the ground," said Harry, who suddenly became a bit uncomfortable. "I also know the basics of the Prismatic Curse, but I don't think that's…"

It seemed that had been unwise to mention, as both Stephen and Theodore looked at him with mixed looks.

"What? Merlin's pants Harry, you know the Prismatic Curse?" asked Theodore with a horrified expression on his face that also had hints of awe.

"I said I know the basics. Not how to cast it," mumbled Harry. "Silvia's statue told me about it."

It was not a spell for the faint of heart. The Prismatic Curse was a spell that, despite its classification as a curse and effects, was amongst the most light-aligned spells known to the general wizarding world. And as far as everyone knew, its effects were irreversible. It was also a family spell, so despite knowledge of its existence being public, its use was tied to the Corvinus bloodline.

"But why that curse?"

"I didn't search for it. I just… found it by chance," said Harry in protest. "I wanted to be prepared."

"For what?"

"For this. For being sorted into Slytherin."

A glance at his brother told Harry that Stephen was exasperated.

"Harry… explain."

Harry sighed and gulped.

"I… I was almost certain I would be going into Slytherin," he admitted. "Gran Euphemia's portrait thought so. And so did mum and dad. I heard them talking about it. And I thought you were going into Gryffindor, you'd be getting mixed with them. And you know Gryffindors and Slytherins don't mix well. Remember dad's stories?"

Stephen repressed a frown. How could he not remember? Their father's description of the Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry back then was rather colourful. The ample and rather creative use of the Dark Arts in the hallways by both sides had been mentioned a few times when their father spoke of his adventures and those of the other three Marauders.

"You're my brother! Why would I do that to you?"

Harry began to fidget with his hands, looking down in defeat.

"I don't… I just thought–"

"Oi, Potter, Nott! I've heard you two got into a bit of trouble. Care to explain what happened?"

The three turned to the Common Room's entrance, from where Felix Toke had just come and was now approaching them, expecting an answer.

"Some Gryffindors ambushed us," answered Theodore. "We fought back."

"I suppose that explains why McLaggen is now bald," said Toke, who then noticed the state of Stephen's clothes. "Bloody hell Potter, did they do that to you?"

Stephen nodded. "I didn't hear the spell in the confusion, but Parkinson thinks it was a Diffindo."

"Stay still."

Toke pointed his wand at Stephen's robes and waved it in a circular pattern. " _Reparo_."

In instants, the torn robes were back to normal, as if they had never been damaged at all.

"Thanks!" said Stephen, both impressed and relieved.

"Don't mention it," replied the prefect, now looking at both Potters. "Don't forget what we told you yesterday. Be wary of going alone in the corridors. I'm going to have a word with Professor Snape about this ambush."

As Toke walked away, Stephen grabbed his twin's arm and walked to the dormitories, Harry having little choice but to go along with his brother and Theodore. Once inside their bedroom, he was forced to sit down in the middle of his bed, with Stephen taking the spot at the end and Theodore sitting down behind Harry.

"You were saying?"

Stephen was looking at him with a face that did not transmit patience. This was a battle Harry knew he wouldn't win.

"I wasn't going to use it. I thought that, maybe I could… make them… back off."

The thought of Harry threatening a Gryffindor version of himself with the Prismatic Curse made Stephen wonder what exactly his little brother could do when under pressure. By what he was seeing, nothing pretty, to be sure. Then again, if he had stumbled upon spells such as those of the Many-Coloured Oubliette, it was likely he would have done the exact same thing.

However, he hadn't, and Harry's sulking-ish behaviour was irritating him.

Stephen rolled his eyes. "That does it. Theo."

"Yeah?"

Stephen gave him a deadpan look. "Do it."

"Do what?" he asked confused, before taking the hint of what Stephen wanted. "Oh."

In the middle, Harry was confused by the exchange between the two. That is, until his arms were suddenly grabbed by Theodore, and he was held in place by the slightly older boy.

"What the..!" he yelped. "Theo, let me go!"

"Nah."

Harry could hear the smile in that word. He tried to struggle, but Theodore's grip was unfaltering. It took him instants to realize and remember that being gripped in such a manner could only mean one thing, and the teasing smirk on his brother's face confirmed it.

_Oh no._

"Stephen, don't you dare! Don't –"

But his words fell on deaf ears, as Stephen hands went straight to Harry's sides, and he began to tickle his twin. As it happened many times before, he broke down laughing, and when it was all over, Harry was lying on his back, panting with the occasional giggle, while Stephen and Theodore sat beside him with mischievous grins.

"I… I hate you two…" he managed to say.

Theodore poked his armpit, making Harry's body twitch in response.

"No you don't."

* * *

The Transfiguration class was interesting. To the twins, the class with their mother had been less, as they knew Lily Potter to be an academically oriented person. James Potter, on the other hand, was more of a surprise. They had been told he was a prodigy at Transfiguration, but nothing had ever come up for him to show his talents to the two. It was clear that James Potter was a bit nervous, more so than his wife had been during her first classes. Perhaps the fact that Lily Potter had already participated in many academic conferences across the magical world, so she was used to speaking before an audience.

So, "interesting" was the best way to describe the first transfiguration class of the first year Slytherins. And when the class was over, all students had left the classroom except for one.

"Bee in your bonnet, Stephen?"

The eldest of the twins approached his father hesitantly. Ever since he had been sorted this question had lingered on his mind, and he really needed to know. Already he regretted not having asked his mother back when her class had been over, but now he had another opportunity to do so with his other parent.

"Are you… You're not… angry, are you?"

"Angry?"

"Harry and I were sorted into Slytherin," he stated, as if it explained his question.

It, in fact, did explain it, as James closed his eyes for a brief moment, before kneeling so that he could be somewhat at eye level with Stephen.

"Why would I be angry with you for being sorted into Slytherin? Or with Harry?" he asked gently. "I simply worry Stephen. Many Death Eaters came from Slytherin, and I feared their children would be sorted into Slytherin too. I wouldn't want you and Harry to be constantly on the edge, fearing to be cursed all the time by your housemates. But…"

Stephen looked at his father expectantly, watching as James took a deep breath before speaking again. "But I admit I was wrong. There's a rather even distribution of children related to Death Eaters in all four houses. And surprisingly, there are fewer in Slytherin," he said. "Well, there's always that Malfoy kid… and Theodore – but he's a special case, since we practically raised him."

There. There was no way describe how relieved Stephen felt. At least now he had nothing to worry about. But there were also something else he wanted to know. More of a curiosity, truth be told. There was bound to be at least some commenting between the professors about the results of the Sorting Ceremony.

"Did the other professors speak about the sorting?"

"They were surprised. Mostly Snape and Dumbledore. And neither seemed pleased about your sorting," admitted James. "Speaking of which, you had your first Potions class this morning, right? Did Snape bother you?"

Stephen shrugged. "Not really. He asked me and Harry some questions about ingredients when the class began but left us alone after that."

"Good. If he starts to give either of you a hard time, come and tell me," said James. "By the way, how's your brother?"

"He's… I don't know," he hesitated. Stephen couldn't tell his father how Harry was, because he himself didn't really know. "He seems fine, I think. But he was really worried about me getting sorted into Gryffindor."

Now that was news to James.

"Why?"

"Your stories. Harry kind of knew he would be placed in Slytherin, and since he believed I would get Gryffindor… he thought I would start to hate him because of the other Gryffindors."

"Would you?"

He had not been expecting that question.

"What? No!"

James gave him a sceptical look. "Are you sure?"

The possibility seemed to cause doubt in Stephen, which James noticed.

"House rivalries run deep Stephen, and you two would have gotten entrapped in them eventually. I've seen friendships taken apart during my school years just because of that. It all starts with a few snide comments, and the next thing you know, there are jinxes being thrown from each side. Boom, no more friendship."

"I… I wouldn't do that. He's my brother!"

"Maybe, maybe not. But peer pressure is a reality amongst the houses, and a dangerous thing too. Many people back then learned it the hard way…"

There was a hint of sadness in James's tone that Stephen noticed.

"But let's focus on the is, and not on the might have been. You said he was worried about you getting into Gryffindor. Well, you didn't, so no harm has been done. Okay?"

Stephen nodded.

"Anything else?" asked James, receiving a head shake from his son. "Then scram. And don't do heavy stuff. You're having Astronomy tonight."

That was something Stephen would have gladly forgot.

* * *

Thursday finally arrived, and with it, the class most anticipated by first years – flying.

Yet having Neville Longbottom fall from his broom and break his wrist, suspending their flying lesson while he and Madam Hooch went to the Hospital Wing, was not a great way to start first of several classes. Nor was having Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley fighting over the Remembrall that Neville had dropped from his robes when he fell.

" _Carpe Retractum."_

An orange cord of light shot out of Stephen's wand, straight into the Remembrall in Malfoy's hand. The blond had no time to react as the small ball was removed from his hands and was shot straight towards the twins, with Harry being the one to catch the small sphere with his right hand.

"Show off," muttered Theodore with a hint of amusement in his voice, receiving a grin in response.

"Give that back Potter!" demanded Ron Weasley.

"No."

"What?"

"I said no Weasley," repeated Harry as he placed the Remembrall in a pocket of his robes. "We're giving this to Longbottom later."

After all, they knew Neville better than any of the Gryffindors. He had been their playmate for quite a few years, despite his shyness. It was a bit of a shame they never really managed to get him out of that shell.

" _Rictusempra!"_

Harry took a step back in surprised as he saw a silver jet of light hit Ron straight in the stomach and the redhead fell down to the ground, bursting in unwilling laughter. He looked at his brother who had his wand pointed at the Gryffindor.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, a bit unamused at what he saw as Stephen's recklessness.

"He was charging at you," replied one of the Slytherin girls – Tracey Davis, to be precise.

Harry blinked. "He did?"

"Yeah," confirmed Stephen. "You didn't see?"

Harry shook his head. "I guess not. Thanks."

Despite a few shouts and glares being thrown their way, the Gryffindors did not retaliate. Firstly, because they knew no spell with they could use against either Potter. Secondly, because none of them wanted to go against the Boy-Who-Lived. The fear factor was slightly present as well, considering they would be up against the boy who had seemingly vanquished He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named years ago.

Stephen was intending making as much use of that reputation as he could.

Although the jinx's effects had faded, Ron Weasley was still wheezing and coughing on the ground, clutching his stomach in pain from the uncontrollable laughter.

"I wouldn't try that again Weasley," warned Theodore. "I heard rat organs are valued as ingredients in potions. Think Professor Snape would be accepting a donation?"

"Why is he even allowed to have one as a pet? The rules say that we can only have an owl, cat, or toad," pointed out Bulstrode.

"Must be Dumbledore's Gryffindor favouritism," said Malfoy, who seemed to decide to back his fellow Slytherins in the matter. "Father said it was the same back in his day."

"Good to know which side our _esteemed_ headmaster supports," muttered Theodore. "Not surprising, to be honest."

Weasley had recovered from the spell, now able to speak once more. However, his words were mostly mumbled, and the only thing the Slytherins managed to understand was " _curse_ ".

"Curse? Don't be a baby Weasley. That was a charm," said Stephen. "There's a difference, you know."

Harry snorted. "He wouldn't. You could fit his brain in a matchbox and still have space left for the matches."

But Weasley had been brought back to his feet by two Gryffindor boys, and pointed his wand at Harry.

"Eat slugs Potter!"

" _Protego_!"

There was a flash and ripple of blue in front of Harry as the two spells collided, with the green light of Ron Weasley's spell being reflected at him, the Gryffindor's wand being shot from his hand as the boy fell to the ground for a second time. All looked at the source of the voice, and the Gryffindors paled as they saw Professor Snape approaching them, wand in his hand and a glare that could kill on his face.

Regardless of what could have happened, the surprise arrival of the Potions Master had Intelligence isn't really his decided the confrontation.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for attacking another student, Weasley," declared Snape. "And detention with me this evening at seven."

He pointedly ignored the fact that Ron Weasley was now on the floor under the effects of his own reflected spell, throwing up slugs much to the disgust of both Gryffindors and Slytherins.

"Excuse me professor," spoke Bulstrode. "But why are you here?"

That was something the other students also wanted to know. As far as they knew, it was unusual to see Snape outside of the dungeons.

"I passed by Madam Hooch as she carried Longbottom to the Hospital. I offered to oversee the class until she returned."

There were some who understood Snape's intentions. He had simply taken this opportunity to take advantage of the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry and make use of any confrontation to remove points from the house of the lions. It just cemented something in the minds of Harry and Stephen.

Snape was a bastard. A useful bastard, but a bastard nonetheless.

* * *

_**The Encyclopaedia Veneficia:** _

**Ancestrials** – Cultural group of the British Wizarding World. Followers of the "Old Ways", the Ancestrials predate the Norman Invasion and pride themselves on being "untainted" by foreign cultural elements. They originate from a melting pot of Celtic, Anglo-Saxon, Romano-British, and revivalist Al-Antidian culture that evolved over the centuries. Virtually unified in religious belief, they are known to practice ancestor worship. Scholars divide them into two groups – the High Ancestrials (proper members of the culture) and the Low Ancestrials (wizards whose lifestyle does not fit into either Merlinists or Ancestrials, but are nevertheless influenced by Ancestrial customs). The term "Ancestrial" was coined by Thomas Heylyn, a 19th century Welsh historian.

 **Merlinists** – Cultural group that descends from the wizards that came with the Norman Invasion, or those that embraced the customs of the invaders. By the late 20th century, their culture is similar to that of the British muggles. The name comes from the custom of invoking "Merlin" in interjections. They are mostly apatheistic, with some following or being influenced by either Abrahamic or non-Abrahamic religions. Scholars divide the Merlinists into two groups – the High Merlinists (proper members of this culture) and the Low Merlinists (wizards whose lifestyle does not fit into either Merlinists or Ancestrials, but are nevertheless influenced by Merlinist customs). The term "Merlinist" was coined by Thomas Heylyn, a 19th century Welsh historian.

 **Lord Enchanter** – In the British Wizarding World, there are a total of seven Lord Enchanters. The seven Enchantrial families are roughly analogue to wizard royalty, with the title of Lord Enchanter being almost equivalent in both power and prestige to that of a prince of the now defunct Holy Roman Empire. Together they form the Council of Enchanters, the upper house of the British Ministry of Magic, older than the Wizengamot itself. The council also serves as an electoral college for the election of the Magus-Imperator, a figure which serves as the head of state of the British Wizarding World until their death or abdication. The electoral process is highly secretive and involves many magical rituals.

 **Prismatic Curse** – Also called the " **Many-Coloured Oubliette** ", it is an old light-aligned and family-bound spell of the Corvinus bloodline. Despite its alignment, it is classified as a curse because of its effects. Known to have been the signature spell of Silvia Corvinus, an infamous witch who lived during the 15th century.


End file.
